


Of Blue Eyes & Weathered Boots

by telepathy



Series: The Castle & The Rose [8]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, Companionship, Expanded Scene, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Illusions, Memories, Sadness, growing closer, new scene, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telepathy/pseuds/telepathy
Summary: After Belle leaves Beast injured, alone and wide awake in his bedroom, he thinks about the night before and all that's happened since. - New Scene –





	Of Blue Eyes & Weathered Boots

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is officially part V in the fic – They are all in order in The Castle & The Rose series, so be sure to read the following to get the full scope: 'The Darkened Chamber,' 'A Midnight Awakening,' The Copper Bowl,' & 'The Cellar Door.' 
> 
> This one weaves every one of those others together but it technically has elements that take place before, during AND after The Cellar Door. Sorry if this is completely confusing & feel free to send digital slaps my way! My muse tells me where to go, it's not trickery, I promise! x

I latched onto her words, my mind no longer suffering from exhaustion; “I’d never let a man get torn apart by a pack of beasts.” Belle said that, to me, a beast, and then exited without so much as a passive utterance or discontented sigh. 

Sleep will not find me now, so I accept the failure and sit up, absentmindedly rubbing circles on my arm, massaging the tender muscle surrounding the wound. Inwardly I pretend this semi-painful distraction is substantial enough to steal my thoughts of her. It’s not, but what else am I left to do here now _but_ think?

The last sixteen hours of my life were unabashedly foreign to anything I’ve endured over the past ten years. I’ve been rendered useless by a curious stupor as every moment, word and action shared between her and I replays. 

Belle, the uninvited, remained beside me the whole night; straight on through to the morning, she had stayed here, in my quarters. Flashes of moments glimmer before my reddened eyes – every minute or achingly regretful happenstance had either brought her closer or tattered us like the torn drapes of my habitual attire. 

I _don’t know_ which outcome to follow as a basis to direct my thoughts, because neither seems wholly accurate. 

But then that agonizing and embarrassing walk to the facilities arises to the forefront, it then being followed by an ensuing conversation concerning my name. _Former_ name, rather. That particular topic brought along a sickening gnash of fear: I sensed her get far too near to a truth I’ve not dared to confront. All the meanings to those things I’d just as soon as remain reclusive from. So of course, I shut her out and pulled away because…what alternative did I hold claim to? 

She will never love me, never view me as anything more than a ghastly half-human, and perhaps that’s as it’s meant to be. That’s what I am. 

But I can’t help but wonder what more she might have said, had I not disrupted the momentary ease with which we had been reveling. For a time, it had been simple and I wasn’t… _this_. I was more, I felt like more. Last night I both appeared and appealed to her, somehow.

A shiver broke the rapport though, and I, with neither pause nor hesitation, offered comfort beneath the bed dressings. I can see it all so clearly now: there, the precise snap of time where realization had settled in. None of it was real, none of it would it last. It couldn’t, or shouldn’t. And so I did the only thing I’m truly gifted at and forced her into disquieted silence.

I wince in my current state, gripping tight to my wound out of misguided frustration. I growl, loudly and uncaringly, but do not offer any respite from my self-infliction. For the remembrances continue to flood, drowning me in their ‘what if’s’ and ‘what could have beens.’ 

I can’t recall when it happened, but the lull of slumber eventually won out; we slept meagerly, given the awkward nature to our last bout of words, but sleep _had_ come to steal us away. 

Dawn brought its new and a fresh set of challenges though: when I awoke, almost immediately I was in desperate need of water and a numbing slave for my shoulder and lower leg. The pain was astonishing those first moments of consciousness; I groaned, teeth clenched and lungs trying, and failing, to suck in as much air as they were capable. 

At one point I must shifted, as my eyes suddenly discovered her there, and that’s when every stab of pain had been instantly relieved from within. 

Belle was asleep on her side still, facing me. Two hands were loosely holding onto one another, ten fingers intertwined beneath a pillow. Her knees looked to be tucked in together by her belly, and her face was wearing a beautiful mask of blissful peace. 

Refrained from any jarring movements, I attempted to hold steady and sure, yet I wanted to be present, for this was not a thing I’d ever experienced before. 

Slowly, I slid one limb over at a time until I was mirroring the girl. Air forfeited me at the full sight: her hair was luminous, lit fully by stark lines of morning light filtering in from behind. There were fraying strands of shiny brown that had found themselves caught in the corner of her lips – she looked messy and unkempt but the scene was everything I never realized I wanted out of life. Powerless and unable to stop myself, I smiled at how convincingly normal this moment felt like.

Without invitation, I used the tip of my finger and brushed the frayed bits of hair away, feeling an immediate flush of warmth against my paw. I yanked my hand back in irrational fear, and fell into a corpse-like trance of complete motionlessness. Didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, simply laid there, waiting to be found out. Waiting for the judgements to descend. 

For who was I to a bask in such normalcy? To revel in the respite her presence and _trust_ had granted me? To _touch_ her? 

Nevertheless, on she slept, and I guiltily took advantage of such borrowed, precious time by trying to understand how this situation had come to be. You cannot rest beside someone and sleep so deeply if there is no level of comfort or companionship there, yes? 

Then again, I did save her from being torn apart by a pack of feral wolves. It all felt impossible, so unreal and untrue and unfathomable. 

“Did you sleep?” 

That was the first thing she asked upon waking to find me intently gazing at her. Thinking on that now, an explosion of heat rises to mar my cheeks and stifle the healthy air trapped inside. If I could go for a fevered race through the woods right now, it’d be the only suitable outlet for these newfound emotions. 

Now is not for the call of the wild though, so I shake free from any lingering shame and willingly return to the moment.

“Did you sleep?” 

Our eyes met and I was the one to break contact first; I’d been caught, but she was kind enough to look beyond the obvious. 

“Yes, I did.” 

I didn’t know what else to say – there was _too much_ to say, I believe, and it would have ended in a disjointed mess of undoubted confusion. 

“Are you in pain? You look a bit…discomforted.” I nodded before realizing what I was agreeing to and in a graceful exit, she was out of bed and at the table, searching for what might cure my ailments. 

“I need to get some fresh water, I’ll return in a moment.” 

I watch her as she handles a copper bowl and makes a heading towards the lavatory. I notice those lived-in boots were back onto her feet, only the laces were left intentionally untied. I refuse to read into what that could mean. 

Instead, I mused over how I fancied this look about her – it felt genuine and simplistically wholesome. Not the bought and sold aesthetics of perfection I had lived with in my early days. 

_No, now is not for those memories._

By the time Belle returned, a few of the servants had managed to trickle in. They asked about my pain levels, same as she had, and what we’d – _we_ – desire for our morning meal. 

After the pleasantries were shared, she dipped a clean cut of linen into the pool of steamy water before coming to halt, eyes peering at me questioningly. 

“What?” 

“You need to remove your shirt. It’s bloodied and soiled again from your movements throughout the night and I didn’t want to bother you about it. Until now. Those wounds need to be cleaned again, and properly this time.” 

Instantly I was aware of every single glance training onto me. Sure, they’ve each seen me without any dressings, but…Belle? There was no going around it – the girl had been right, and so I acquiesced. 

“Uh…alright.”

I sat up then, a slick and throaty rumble roiling within chest; each bit of torn flesh ached, felt hot and stiff and uncooperative. Every shift of muscle seemed as though it were tearing me apart, but I remained resolute in my mission to assist her. In removing my shirt. 

She would see more of me then, more than I’d ever wanted her to.

I pulled on the knot at the neckline and then began to ease the cloth up and over my shoulders. There was a momentary snag as a few remaining tacky bits of the wound had adhered itself to the fabric. I seethed and instantly tore the garment from off of me, effectively severing the gash anew. 

Thick, red droplets proceeded to splash onto my bedclothes and Belle sighed dejectedly in response. 

“Now, why would you go and do a thing like that? You’ve ripped yourself open and now it’ll take even longer to heal!” 

She didn’t wait for a reply, just pressed the wetted wash towel onto me and waited. 

I roared at her actions and that’s…that’s when we fought our first.

_”That’s hur–“_

“Master, do you need anything?” 

It was Lumière’s interruptive words that awoke me from the nightmarish reverie I’ve ensconced myself within. 

I wanted to be angry, to misdirect my anguish and pain and…something else onto him, but what good would it have done? 

“No. You can go.” 

But he didn’t, go, that is. 

“Was there anything else you needed?” I desired solitude after such highs and lows.

“I’m sorry to bother, but it seems we have a bit of a predicament with the girl.” 

I sigh and roll my eyes – of course we do. 

“What is it?” 

“Well, she’s…she’s taken a private tour down into the cellar. I can hear the music, am almost tempted to return for a visit myself, but I…Master, I think it’d be better if you went and retrieved her.” 

Saying nothing, I stand shakily and don a nearby shroud. It’s not quite as matted and shredded as the one I’ve worn for…years, but it’ll do. No shirts for another day or two, according to the guidelines set forth by my new _physician_. 

“Well, if I’m going, you’re going.” 

For once Lumière says nothing, instead choosing to close his eyes and adopt that disturbingly static poise when he wants to recuse himself. 

The journey into the past is not one any of us here enjoy, least of all my servants. 

We, or rather I and a candelabra, set out nervously, passing Mrs Potts and a few others as we mark our way into the bowels of the castle. It’s a place we routinely force ourselves to see, despite the horrid aftermath each and every time. It asks too much of us when we place ourselves back into a time when things were simpler, but we perpetuate it purposely. 

But the girl must not linger any longer. She cannot ever know the full extent of the curse; my fears are heightened that this could influence her in a far more sinister way than merely discovering the truth. 

_If she knows what breaks the curse, how might she see me then? Would she have one day loved me but now never will because of who I am…who I was?_

Our descent complete, I come to a full-stop at the entrance, immediately submerged once again into that fated night. 

_No, NO. Get her out, leave, leave now. No time, no time to waste watching that which cannot be undone._

The visage she’s standing inside of fades seconds before the stipulations of the curse were read aloud. A palpable surprise overwhelms me as I’m left to wonder when exactly that’s been altered. It had never ended at that part before…

A shiver walks the length of my spine once, twice, and I can’t help but wonder: _Is the Enchantress still watching me? After all these years?_

I hear her beg the emptiness for answers – the ghostly mirage was not enough apparently – though I’m not shocked by this inquisitive response. Belle is the most intelligent woman I’ve ever known and I’ve only just met her. Clearly her suspicions were warranted and yet I know no other would dare to ask the void for more; no matter, it’s come time for me to escort her out, time to get as far away from here as we rightly could. 

“She desired shelter and I denied her. It was my f-fault.”

We exit the haunted room after that, and as we go she pleads for more, for any one thing or information that might help her quest. I explain it’s not for her to know but somewhere deep inside, I _want_ her to have the truth, all of it. 

She’s seen me at my worst already and yet I can’t help but pause on the way she looked at…Adam in that fleeting glimpse of the past. 

Her eyes had lingered on mine, or well the me from then, and Belle appeared to visibly light up. She had taken so quickly to that wholly human appearance, and I feel a part of my soul wither and ice over again. 

“That was you, in there. I could tell by…your eyes. Like the scarred painting on the wall.”

She’s stopped us in a lonesome corridor, stood next to a crumbling section of wall where fallen rose petals have had a deep and profound structural affect. 

“It’s not me now, though. Anyway, what does it matter?” 

She takes a step closer towards me and cradles my jawline with her hand, “It _is_ you.” 

I gulp, fighting an urge to widen the eyes she’s speaking so fondly of. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter now. Please refrain from going there anymore. I…I don’t like it.”

“Then why do you go there ‘often enough?’” 

I shake my mane slightly and turn away from her – how might I best explain this to a woman who knows nothing of wicked curses and tricking enchantresses? Or of time spent in hell and torment over the damnation of my servants and myself. 

“Because I’ll never know otherwise.” 

Her brow pulls in and down, lips pursing together, “What exactly does that mean?”

**Author's Note:**

> Unending thanks for the love, as always. Please drop me a line about what to do insofar as making it a standalone, multi-chapter fic? I feel like it might get a bit confusing if I keep adding to it! x


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